Belief
by Captain-Beatty
Summary: A look at how the Pevensies keep faith with each other-through prayer.


Belief

Captain: Hello everyone! *waves hand exuberantly* I hope you haven't completely given up on me! So, I started thinking about Narnia and fanfiction and how it seems the Pevensies each use different prayers (Elecktrum is to thank for this beautiful inspiration). So, I decided to try it myself. Here is the result. Hope you enjoy! All mistakes are mine.

Disclaimer: Narnia belongs to CS Lewis. Obviously. I mean, who else would it belong to?

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_Aslan, guide my sword_

_Strengthen my shield_

_And defend me from evil._

_Keep my kingdom safe_

_And my enemies overconfident_

Before every battle, the Kings of Narnia prayed.

At first, they were solitary in their pleas. Peter would kneel behind his sword, as out of sight as possible, and ask for Aslan's blessings. He sometimes felt that those were the few times he could be alone, be just _Peter_, not the High King or the Magnificent. He wondered later on if he was just fooling himself. As much as he wanted to be Peter Pevensie from Finchley, King Peter was so much of who he was it was hard to separate the two.

It took a long time for Edmund to pray out loud. Most of his prayers were silent, mouthed between tasks that were necessary to take care of. It was during one of these tasks that he found his elder brother kneeling at the foot of the hammock. After listening to the words, he smiled. _Of course_ Peter would pray. And _of course_ it would be simple, but still elegant.

"Don't forget to ask about bringing everyone home safe, Peter," Edmund added quietly.

Peter turned his head and nodded. "I always ask for that, Ed," he said softly. Standing, he groaned as he slid the weapon back into its sheath. They had been on the battle grounds shy of a week, and it was just beginning to look like it might end soon. Peter had taken an arrow in the shoulder the afternoon before, and it was troubling him today. "Did we lose any wounded last night?"

Edmund sighed. They had already gone over the numbers that fell during the actual fighting, and it had pained Edmund to see how much life drained from his elder brother. "Only two," he answered quietly, knowing Peter would find out anyway. "Bears from the Southern clan."

Peter frowned, trying to gather his thoughts. "They were part of that last wave? After I got shot?"

"Yes. They had been wounded before, a couple days ago. My guess is they decided they were well enough to make another run."

Before Peter could answer, there was a shuffle outside the tent flap. "My kings?" Oreius' voice carried through the fabric. "It is time."

"We will be there, Oreius. Gra'merce," Edmund answered. After he heard the Centaur trot away, he turned to Peter. "Teach me that prayer. Please."

Peter smiled and just for a moment, he was a teenager again. "Well, since you said please…"

_Aslan, make my aim true_

_My strings tight_

_And keep me from evil._

_Stop me from wasted arrows_

_And help me remain strong_

Susan usually didn't enter the battlefield. Normally if there was a campaign, Peter or Edmund would go and leave the other siblings at Cair Paravel. Occasionally Lucy went along, if there was going to be a necessary use of her cordial. Although Susan never asked, she thought the youngest sometimes went along just to keep up morale. Rarely were both Kings out of the court, or Susan.

This time, both Peter and Susan were attending the troops. As reluctant as Peter was to ask his sister to come, he knew that only the elder siblings were going to be acknowledged by their enemy. He had seen proof of that when the initial delegation had been sent to the Cair. Although the delegates were courteous to Lucy and Edmund, it was obvious they believed the younger ones held no authority.

"Thinking about the delegates again?" Susan asked.

Peter looked shocked, then a little sheepish. "Am I that obvious?"

Susan giggled quietly. "Only to me, brother dear. And Lucy, and Edmund. Maybe Oreius, but I'm not sure."

Peter shook his head ruefully. "Well, I suppose that's something we'll never know." Looking towards the east, Peter felt a grin tugging at his lips. "Although I _do_ suppose that the future Mrs. Oreius will tell us if he knows or not."

Susan laughed this time, a little louder. "If there ever is a future Mrs. Oreius. She would have to be someone just as smart and twice as stubborn!"

"And just as loyal," Peter added quietly. "Maybe someone with a little bit of cheek, too."

Susan raised her eyebrow. "Does your general know you're planning his future mate for him?"

Peter shuddered. "Oh no, I wouldn't dare tell him." There was a comfortable silence as they watched the sun rise over the tents. The spell only broke when Peter murmured the prayer under his breath.

Susan's voice got caught in her throat. "Say that again, Peter."

"Edmund knows it too," he said softly.

"Yes, but the sword and shield bit doesn't really apply to me, does it? Maybe we can figure out one for archers."

_Aslan, keep me strong_

_With cordial in hand_

_And knife in belt._

_Help me bring life to those who need it_

_And take it from those who would do harm_

Lucy sighed and curled further into Peter's side. Although she took advantage of being the youngest, after a battle she had no qualms about it. She liked the smell of the battlefield as much as she liked staying in bed with the flu. At the end of the day, when they could just be siblings, that's the only time she felt okay on the battlefield.

"It was bad today, wasn't it?"

She heard the slight sigh he gave out. "Not as bad as it could have been, Lu. You saw the worst of them, I'm afraid."

When Lucy didn't answer, he brought his hand up to her head and started combing her hair. It had always calmed her down when they were in War Drobe, and it still worked here. Peter frowned slightly, then let it evaporate. When had he condensed thoughts of 'England' into 'War Drobe of Spare 'Oom?' Not that it mattered right now. "It's alright, Lucy. I don't think there's too much fight left in them."

Lucy giggled slightly. "And in you?"

"I could go for _months_, and still be ready for more!"

Laughing now, Lucy uncurled from her brother and pushed him slightly. "Peter Pevensie! You'll do no such thing! Edmund would drive us mad with his insistence to come and help!"

Ruffling her hair, he grinned back. "So, you're saying I shouldn't try it to keep you and Susan from losing your minds? Or Ed his?"

"That's right," Lucy nodded. "It would be a crime against Narnia."

"Hmm, I'll have to check. I don't know if that's written down anywhere."

Lucy laughed again, before the fatigue returned to her face. When she snuggled down again, it wasn't for comfort but for sleep. "Peter?"

"Yes, sister?"

Lucy sighed. "What's that prayer everyone does? Can we make one for me?

Peter kissed the top of her head. "Of course."

_Guard me from both sin and foe_

_And bring my family home_


End file.
